


Already Gone

by XAnima_Bellax



Series: Marvin's Room [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Break Up, Denial, Derek's with Kate, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Lydia's a lesbian, M/M, talk of death, tough love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:53:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XAnima_Bellax/pseuds/XAnima_Bellax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek visits Stiles after the phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Already Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Marvin's Room.

Derek wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing there  - there being Stiles’ and Danny’s apartment.  Every bone in his body told him that it was a mistake being there.  Stiles didn’t need to see him, didn’t need that added pressure on his already fragile state.  But unfortunately, Derek’s heart was a muscle, not a bone, and it insisted that he check up on the younger male.

So there he was, standing in one of the worse neighborhoods he’d ever been to, in front of the crappy looking apartment complex.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there.  The first few minutes he’d paced back and forward, trying to talk himself out of confronting Stiles.  Then he’d stood there, finger hovering over the button that would buzz up to Stiles’ apartment.  Now he was waiting on a response; half of him praying that Stiles wasn’t home, the other half hoping that he was. 

This had to be done.

After a few more minutes of standing on the sidewalk with no responding buzz from Stiles, he gave up.  He was turning to walk away when the front door of the apartment building opened.  He turned, half expecting it to be Stiles.  Instead he was greeted by a dainty little redhead.  She looked out of place, standing in the doorway of the crumbling structure.  She was more suited for the condos that he lived in on the other side of town. He wondered idly if she’d lived near him before.  She looked vaguely familiar. She arched a perfect eyebrow at him, as if asking _Are you coming or going?_

“The person I’m looking for isn’t here,” Derek told her. A second eyebrow rose to join the other in response.

“You got that just from standing out here like a creeper?”

“I buzzed up and got no reply,” Derek explained as politely as possible.  He couldn’t necessarily blame her for thinking that he was some kind of weirdo, but he didn’t like the tone she’d used either.

“The buzzer’s busted, just like half of the other crap in this piece of shit.  That’s mostly just a guise to ward off burglars.”

“Does it work?” Derek asked skeptically.

“What do you think?  Anyway, if you’re coming up to see Stiles, you’d better do it now.  I don’t suppose he’ll be worth shit in an hour or two.”

Derek frowned in confusion.  Was Stiles back on speed? Or was she referring to the drinking?  More importantly, how did she even know she was looking for Stiles?  He moved towards her slowly, cautious to not seem threatening, and into the building. She let the door fall shut and locked it immediately after he stepped into the lobby.  He eyed the locked door with curiosity.

“The sun will be setting soon,” she explained, walking over to stand closer to him.  “The busted buzzer might not work, but a locked door usually dissuades many.”

“Understandable,” Derek replied, looking around.  The lobby didn’t look much better than the outside, but he hadn’t really expected it to look like the foyer at the Ritz.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” she asked.  Derek turned to stare at her.  She was strikingly beautiful; the kind of beautiful that haunted you if you were easily influenced by looks.  Derek wasn’t.  Still, he felt the nagging sensation that he’d met her before.  Maybe at an event or briefly in passing.

“You seem familiar, but I can’t recall where I might know you from.”

“I’m Lydia.  Stiles’ friend,” she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Derek remembered her then.  Lydia Martin, the former rich girl.  He remembered Stiles telling him that her parents disowned her for dating another female. He’d only met her twice; both times she’d been high out of her mind on ecstasy.  He often used to hear her name whenever he needed to come and scoop Stiles off the floor of some seedy club.  He’d never liked her very much then.

She seemed sober now.  Her eyes were clear and she wasn’t slurring her words or falling down.  She had phantom bags under her eyes, but they didn’t seem to be from drug use.  She had the look of someone who’d seen too much and was still haunted by the events of her past.  All in all she looked well.  Derek told her so.

“I’ve been sober for six months.  It’s still hard, but I’m dealing.”  Derek didn’t think that someone like her could get clean.  She’d seemed too far gone when he’d met her before, lost to everything but her high.  She’d seemed like Stiles.  She must have seen the disbelief in his eyes because her tone got colder when she spoke next.  “You may not believe it, but it’s true.  Having my lover overdose and die in my arms was enough of a wake up call.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Derek replied, looking away in shame.

“Don’t be.  Being too weak and high to do anything other than cry and stroke her hair was my moment of clarity.  I never wanted to feel that helpless again.  So I got clean.”

“You didn’t think to help Stiles?” Derek asked.  He couldn’t help the accusing tone he’d used.

“It’s hard to try to help someone else get sober when you’re trying not to think about that glass straw and razor you have hidden away in your dealers house.  I was hardly able to keep myself from getting high on whatever I could get my hands on.  I wouldn’t have been able to help him too.”

“And now?”

“Stiles isn’t ready.  He hasn’t seen enough; hasn’t lost enough.”

“I think he’s lost plenty,” Derek replied.  “His father doesn’t talk to him anymore.  He doesn’t have a job.  He barely has a place to stay.”  And he definitely had lost Derek.

“I hope you aren’t including yourself in that list of things.”  Lydia was a lot smarter than Derek had given her credit for. “His dad will still come running all the way from California if Stiles needed him.  He’s getting money from somewhere, so what does he care about a job for? Take it from an ex junkie, a bed is a bed is a bed – rather it’s a mattress or a rolled up sweatshirt and a soggy box in an alley.”

“And me?”

“Well you’re here aren’t you?”

“This isn’t –”

“Save it,” Lydia interrupted. “You’re here.  And it sure as hell ain’t for the view.”  She walked back into the little office that was sitting to the right of the lobby.  Derek stood paralyzed for a second before he continued to the stairs.

 

: : : : : :

He finds Stiles’ apartment with no problem.  He goes to knock on the door, but it’s unlocked already and open just a crack.  He frowns, stepping into the living room.  It’s small and there;s only a thin wall that comes up to his chest separating the living room from the kitchen.  There’s a small TV, so small that Derek wonders if it was black and white, and a dingy looking couch that has definitely seen better days.  Other than the empty water bottles and dirty shirts littered across the floor, the apartment is as clean as it could be.

He stands amidst the mess, wondering how Stiles can stand to sleep there.  _A bed is a bed is a bed…rather it’s a mattress or a rolled up sweatshirt and a soggy box in an alley._ Lydia’s voice comes back to him then.  Derek figures this must be the Four Seasons to Stiles when he’s high off of whatever it is he’s doing now.  Derek shifts, uncomfortable with standing in someone else’s home without them knowing, but unable to leave until he gets everything between him and Stiles straightened out. There’s movement in the hallway to the left of him and Stiles comes stumbling out the room, bottle of _something_ grasped tightly in his hands.  Derek notices that it hasn’t been opened yet, but it doesn’t stop his stomach from dropping.

“Stiles,” Derek states.  Stiles jumps in fright, eyes wide in what can only be shock.

“Derek?” He asks, moving cautiously into the kitchen.  Derek wants to laugh at the fear there in the younger man’s eyes, but doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

“Stiles we need to talk,” Derek states instead. It’s best to get this over with.

“Um…okay. Just…just have a seat I guess.  You want anything?” He’s nervous, Derek can tell as much from the choppy sentences and how he shifts nervously in his own kitchen. 

“I don’t have very long. Kate and I have reservations tonight.” Stiles’ eyes harden just a fraction and he’s suddenly much tenser.  The change doesn’t go unnoticed by Derek.

“Right.  How is Kate?” Stiles asks, voice pinched.  Derek doesn’t have time for this.

“You don’t really care about that, Stiles. That much became apparent last night.”  Stiles stiffens even more and Derek wonders just how tight his spine can get.  He represses the thoughts that try to remind him how flexible it is.

“I was hoping we could not talk about that,” Stiles states, turning away from Derek.  Derek resists the urge to grunt in frustration.  The last thing he needs is for Stiles to upset him.

“Stiles, we can’t pretend that phone call never happened.”

“Why not?” Stiles voice is suddenly sharp and Derek knows what this is.  If Stiles can’t deflect the conversation, he turns to anger and aggression. “We’ve done plenty of pretending before.  I pretend that you friends don’t hate my guts.  You pretend that I didn’t embarrass you.  We both pretend that you love me.”

“Loving you was never the problem!” Derek can’t help the raise in his voice.  He knows that he shouldn’t let Stiles get a rise out of him, that this is what Stiles wants, but it’s hard. “We both know that! Our relationship ended because you need a fix more than you needed me.”

“I got clean for you,” Stiles states sharply. “That night was just a one time thing! A mistake!”

“None of that matters now,” Derek insists.  It’s best not to go into that right now. “We need to talk about the phone call.”

Stiles is quiet for a while, back still turned to Derek.  “Remember all the things we wanted? Now all our memories…they’re haunted.”

“Stiles, we were always meant to say goodbye.” Derek isn’t sure how they survived as long as they did. “Even with our fists held high, it never would have worked out right.  We were never meant for do or die.”

“I didn’t want us to burn out,” Stiles says softly.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you, now I can’t stop.”  Derek needs to do this, needs Stiles to know exactly where they are.  “I want you to know that it doesn’t matter where we take this road…but someone’s gotta go.”

Stiles nods his head in agreement, or what Derek thinks is agreement.  Stiles still won’t look at him. “And I want you to know that you couldn’t have loved me better.”

Derek ignores that, doesn’t have a good enough reply to the admission. “But I want you to move on.  I’m already gone.”  Stiles still doesn’t turn around. “Stiles, look at me.”

“Looking at you makes it harder,” Stiles states, but turns around nonetheless.  There are unshed tears in his eyes and Derek’s heart cramps with emotion.

“I know it’s hard. But I know that you’ll find another that doesn’t always make you want to cry.”

Stiles lets out a bitter laugh. “How did we get here? It started with the perfect kiss.”  Derek could only imagine what Stiles was thinking in his head.  He’d never truly understood where they went wrong.  It happened way before Stiles relapsed.  They could both feel the poison set in…but by then it was too late.

“Perfect couldn’t keep this love alive,” Derek states firmly. As much as he wants to blame this all on Stiles, he can’t help but feel at fault.

“You know I love you so. I love you enough to let you go.”  It looks as though saying the words cause Stiles physical pain, but the younger man doesn’t try to take them back.  Derek swallows the lump in his throat, and presses on anyway.

“I want you to know that it doesn’t matter where we take this road but…”

“Someone’s gotta go,” Stiles finishes for him.  He stares directly into Derek’s eyes, and Derek forces himself not to turn away.  He has to face this like a man.

“And I want you to know that you couldn’t have loved me better.  But I want you to move on, so I’m already gone.”

“We can fix it,” Stiles exclaims and Derek thinks its just a last attempt to get him to stay.  Oh how easy would it be? To pull Stiles close to him and hide him away from all the demons.  To have the younger male under him, moaning in ecstasy instead of crying in pain.

“You can’t make it feel right when you know that it’s wrong. There’s no moving on.  So I’m already gone.”  Derek wonders if he’s trying to convince himself or Stiles.  He’s repeating the mantra in his head; _already gone already gone already gone already gone already gone already gone_ ; and he figures it’s more so for himself.

“You’ll come back,” Stiles says softly, so much so that Derek almost doesn’t hear it. “I want _you_ to know that it doesn’t matter where we take this road, but someone’s gotta go.  Maybe me or maybe Kate.  Which would you rather it be?”

“Stiles! Stop this! It has to stop,” Derek states firmly.  “I want you to know, you couldn’t have loved me better, but I want you to move on cause I’m already gone.”

“Bu you aren’t.  You’re right here where you belong.  With me.  You’ll be a fool to believe that this is the end Derek.  It’s only a hiatus.”

“You can’t make it feel right when you know that it’s wrong, Stiles! I’m already gone.  There is no us! _I’m already gone._ ”

Stiles laughs deeply, just shy of hysterical.  “There’s no moving on.” 

Derek can see that Stiles is done, that he isn’t accepting this right now.  He tries to convince himself that Stiles is wrong.  _I’m already gone,_ he swears to himself.  He lets himself out, racing to get as far way from Stiles as possible.  It was a mistake coming here.  Stiles isn’t going to accept no and Derek has only made matters worse.  He should have just ignored it; ignored the feeling, ignored the phone call, _ignored Stiles._ But it’s Stiles, and one couldn’t just ignore the male. 

Lydia stops him on his way out.

“You really want Stiles to get clean?”

“Of course,” Derek responds, looking down at the other girl with a frown. _But will that make a difference between the two of you?_ he asks himself.

“He has to experience true lose.  If he doesn’t, he’ll end up face down in a puddle of his own vomit.  He has to lose someone.  His dad isn’t strong enough.  Danny isn’t mean enough.  Is your love big enough?”  Lydia’s staring him down with those haunting eyes and he finds himself nodding against his will.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Leave.  Don’t come back.  As long as he knows he can count on you to come running every time he calls, he’ll never feel truly lost and helpless.  I’ll do the rest.  But you have to break his heart.”

That should be easy enough.  Derek feels as though he’s been doing that since the two of them got together. He nods tersely, not trusting himself to speak.  He lets himself out the building and forces himself not to look back.  It’s better this way.

It’s better for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not crazy about the dialect. I just hope it's up to par with Marvin's Room


End file.
